Darken
by Hikaru Irving
Summary: Oneshot, Royal Guard based, softcore slash, rated M to be safe. People looked down on Yuri for walking the dark path, but he was not the one who slept with angels.


A/N: Uhm … Yes, it's Royal Guard based, but, uh … you can ignore this if you want. Especially if you don't like shonen-ai, much less somewhat explicit shonen-ai (yes I can call it the Y-word but it's not _just _about that), and especially especially if you don't like crack pairings. Like this one. I mean really. Don't flame me because I _did _warn you. Also there are RG spoilers, as I couldn't really wait to have those chapters out before this little demon escaped my brain. But it could have been worse. Much worse. Kk I'll shut up now. (Runs away to Daath with Master Van)

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't make material profit, fan made fun, etc.

--

The last three months had been very trying on Luke fon Fabre, for lack of a better word. He' d been tricked into destroying an entire city (he and his knights had evacuated at least a third of the city's population, small comfort), by the man he'd looked up to and admired, perhaps loved, all his life, his friends abandoned him in Nordopolica the night Belius died, Alexei tried to detain him and use him as a human weapon as Van had. The only constant in Luke's these days was Raven, the surly guildsman who also, as a Seventh Fonist, had been teaching Luke to control it and thereby his hyperresonance.

Myorzo was an eerie place at night, the moonlight filtering strangely through Krones's translucent skin. The Kritya were weird and oddly tight knit; this perhaps explained the giant canopy beds in the spare rooms that could hold up to three people at once. There were seven of them, not counting Repede, and as per usual had split up in groups of two: Estelle had a room to herself, Judith shared with Rita, Yuri with Karol, and lastly Luke with Raven. Though they'd roomed together before, Luke had never shared a bed with the archer, much less anyone since he was forced to "grow out of it" at the manor in Zaphias.

But, being lonely ever since Akzeriuth and Nordopolica, and being seven years old, he found he didn't mind it. He'd felt much closer to Raven than anyone else in their motley crew lately—Rita he was sure despised him, Karol always looked at him weirdly, Estelle seemed to be _afraid _of him, and Judith never said anything.

Luke noticed that Raven seemed a bit on edge after the Krityan elder through Judith revealed the meaning of Estelle's power—she had a remarkable gift for acting like a blastia in and of herself, but she caused an imbalance in the world's aer supply, making the krene overproduce it. Too much aer along with an excess of Seventh Fonons also corrupted it into the miasma. The short answer to save the planet, to keep aer under control and keep from it turning into miasma, was simply to kill Estelle. Of course that simply couldn't be allowed. Luke had suggested she just not use her power. To which the others sans Raven gave him strange looks.

"Yeah?" Rita had said scathingly, "just like how you didn't use your power in Akzeriuth?" Luke opened his mouth, but the mage sharply cut off any words he might have said. "And don't gimme that it's Van's fault crap! All he did was give you a nudge!"

"Then what's so different about Estelle if _that's _how you feel?" Luke shouted back, startling everyone. He stepped forward, before Rita, holding his arms out as if offering something. "Well, here I am! If I'm so dangerous, take Judith's spear and run me through yourself! Go on!"

"And I just might!" Rita raged, holding a fist upward, "But Estelle's case, her power, her _nature _is completley different! Yes, aer contamination is bad, and yes so is the miasma, but at least those can be contained! She can't blow up cities at will! Nothing can change what you are or the nature of your power, and if you've gone off like a time bomb then so much the better if you're dead!" Her bodhi blastia flickering as if she were going to fire off magic at any second.

"That's enough!" Yuri yelled sharply, and hellish silence fell over them like a heavy shroud. "Rita, I know how you feel, but Luke is only seven years old." He held up a hand to stall her upcoming protests, "I don't like what he did, either. Just stop spewing so much venom, it doesn't do anyone any good."

That exchange played over and over in Luke's mind as he made ready for bed. His armor he left in a heap beside the four poster canopy bed on the floor, his sword and shield treated only marginally better leaning on the wall. But no longer did they mean anything in particular, as they had before. The sword, the gift from his family upon his making the post of Royal Guard captain. The shield, the gift from Commandant Alexei himself, the symbol of the Royal Guardsmen. His family, his friends, his mentors … they all abandoned him.

He no longer regarded himself as an Imperial Knight, much less captain of the Royal Guard, the position just a step below Commandant. He still followed Estelle and protected her with all his strength, even though she was afraid of him, because she was family, because he had nowhere else to go, no other reason to keep going. He still wore the crimson uniform of the Guard, although Judith (along with Estelle and Yuri as accomplices) had commissioned tailors for two other ensembles for him. The other outfits had been designed according to the Krityan and others' tastes, however, and the Guard uniform looked more dignified, not to mention actually worked and looked right with his armor.

Out of respect for his roommates, Luke was always nearly completely dressed when he slept but for his boots, gloves, and cape; for some reason he always wore his overcoat to bed. Tonight was no exception. As Luke settled into the covers on his side, all Raven had to do was kick off his shoes and fall back. The Krityan bed could hold up to three people at once, so they certainly did not want for personal space. Yet the closeness didn't bother Luke in the least, quite the contrary. He'd never been allowed to share a bed with someone he regarded as a friend as long as he was old enough to understand that, when he couldn't have been even a year old yet.

Raised a knight, thought to have been Asch with amnesia, he had to be strong, disciplined. His father, tutors, everyone around him had done their damnedest to brutally beat the child out of him. He was never _allowed _to be a child, it was unacceptable for an Imperial prince. He had to be tough, he had to be a leader, within the Knights at least even if he'd never ascend the Imperial throne. Around Raven, he could be that child, he could be who he truly was. No knight, no prince, no weapon or tool of convenience. He could just be himself. With that comforting thought, he could fall asleep peacefully, as peacefully as Akzeriuth and Nordopolica would allow.

Raven lay back on the huge Krityan mattress, hands folded behind his head, one leg dangling off the edge of the bed. Moonlight bathed them in a pool of liquid silver. His turquoise eyes were fixed on Luke as the boy slept, peacefully so far. The noble always had nightmares—for an Imperial Knight, especially of his position, he hated killing people, and the fitful nights had only gotten worse after Akzeriuth. No one understood Luke, not as Raven did, partly because the boy was willing to confide only in Raven. Yuri was too cynical, Karol was wrapped up in his own problems, Rita refused to understand, Judith was unapproachable, and Estelle would break if she knew.

That he should come to Raven was only natural, considering the guildsman had been around Luke more often than not, ever since the Fabre wanted to properly learn to control the Seventh Fonon. Raven heaved a sigh, dark bangs flying upward. He'd thought he could just cruise his way until Alexei needed him to deliver not just one, but two imperial heirs. One would be the shield of the new Empire, the other the sword. He was the first to admit it would be easy to hand over the princess, she wasn't strong despite her sword and shield, and Yulia's hymns would make it that much easier.

But Luke was another story altogether.

Raven slapped a palm to his face. He knew it, he'd let himself get too attached, even when that damnable Commandant ordered otherwise. He sat upright, resisting the urge to put a hand over his heart—or his pale imitation of one. It never was going to be easy; he reflected on all the times he'd taught the noble about the Seventh Fonon, how to recognize, channel, and use it. A soft smile fleeted across Raven's lips as he turned to face Luke, the way the boy slept with his hands curled near his face rather childlike. The older man couldn't resist gently tucking a few strands of red hair behind his friend's ear, only to have them fall back into place. He breathed an apology that was nigh inaudible, turning away.

"Mnn … Raven—?"

He froze at the sound of his name. No, the lad was asleep, he was just sleep talking, that was all … then a young, wide hand roughened by years of swordplay and other arms training reached out and snaked around his waist. It clasped the hand Raven had over the polished handle of the knife in his belt. Groggily Luke spoke.

"Where're you goin'?"

"Fer a walk," Raven supplied, somewhat stiffly. Why did he have to wake up just this second? But he should have known, the boy never did sleep lightly, ever.

More awake now, Luke sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "In Myorzo?" He asked, tilting his head to one side in confusion. "There's nowhere to walk to."

Silence. Raven could feel those jade green eyes boring holes in the back of his skull. He held his breath, waiting for it. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and abruptly found red-sleeved arms wound tightly around his torso, pulling him close, more tightly than the archer would have thought possible. Luke clung to him, face pressed against his back. Subtle tremors betrayed the fear the Fabre felt, even if his voice already did.

"Y-you're not gonna leave me, too, are you?" Luke stammered in a hushed voice, verdant eyes going wide, fearful. Raven didn't answer. At that the knight buried his face in the archer's shoulder. With horror he felt the replica's body shaking.

"Don't go," Luke whispered, voice muffled by the violet coat. "I lost Master Van, I lost my knights, I lost Alexei—" Raven couldn't stop himself from shuddering at the Imperial Commandant's name, "—all because I'm just a stupid replica, not a real person. I—I don't wanna lose you, too--!"

"I wouldn't leave because of that," Raven answered softly, slipping his own hand in one of Luke's, fingers intertwined, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"But you _were _leaving," Luke maintained, grasping on the guildsman's hand as if it were a lifeline. The memories flashed before his eyes, Akzeriuth collapsing, him trying to shift the rubble in futile hopes of finding survivors, Asch attacking, screaming that he was a defective replica that couldn't even control his hyperresonance, of Belius's death, Estelle falling to her knees from the shock. Yuri had nabbed the apatheia, urged Estelle to get up and run. He'd grabbed her by the elbow, half-dragging her to her feet. He'd turned partway, looked straight at Luke, who had been trapped in a circle of his own Royal Guard. Yuri paused for a moment … and ran away. It was only thanks to Flynn later on that Luke had gotten away at all.

"Please, Raven, don't leave." Came the strangled whisper. "Don't leave me alone …" He'd never been allowed to cry and didn't start now, but his voice hitched, and his body shook. Through everything Raven supported him. Everything. "I-I don't think I could take that …"

Well, dammit. Raven was the boy's final pillar of support, and if that were gone … It wasn't that he disliked the noble, far from it. It was just … if Raven complicated it any more, it would just be that much harder. But theway Luke clung to him, almost flush against his back, arms tightly wound around him, face buried in his shoulder as he begged him not to leave … how long had it been since someone held him like that? Ten years, his mind supplied through a thin but growing haze.

For all his flirtatious demeanor, he'd never actually allowed himself any intimacy for fear of people discovering he had no heart, literally. He found he quite missed the close contact, and for all his willing not to react, his damn body wouldn't listen. All at once he felt the heat rise in his face, and make itself apparent elsewhere. He suddenly became very aware of Luke's arm around his waist, their hands clasped together. Ten years was a long time …

"Luke, dearie, y'know I'd never just up an' leave ya like that." The little pet name that started as a joke abruptly had such a deeper meaning, just like that.

"Good," Luke breathed, and the gust of air blowing past Raven's ear made him go still. " 'Cuz if there were no one else on the face of the earth, I'd be happy if it was just you."

It was all in innocence, Raven told himself as Luke babbled on. He was only seven years old, he didn't mean what it sounded like—

"You're the only one that's ever really given a damn about me, you know that? You've seen the way everyone else acts around me."

And Raven knew it was true. Luke and Yuri just clashed constantly, Estelle was afraid of him, Rita would be more than happy to run him through herself, Karol avoided him, and Judith was unapproachable. Raven was the only one to be there for Luke, from teaching him fonology to catching him in Akzeriuth's fall.

"And I just wanted you to know … you mean a lot to me."

Luke needed him. That much was plain. Raven was still trying to figure out just what the Fabre meant to him. His body was more than happy to provide one answer, while his mind was trying and failing to to tell it otherwise. Did Raven actually feel affection, love, for Luke? Or was this overwhelming feeling merely a result of a decade's worth of pent-up sexual frustration?

"So, thank you," Luke whispered, smiling against Raven's back. "For staying with me for so long." Snuggling closer, he pressed his lips against the archer's shoulder with a child's delight.

Then. Something in Raven, almost audibly, _cracked. _Even through the cloth of his coat, that one touch, that one kiss, no more than a ghostly feeling, was like the breath of life, a throw of sparks on the cold stone. Abruptly he turned, surprising Luke in nearly jarring him against the headboard. Jade eyes blinked, startled at the sudden closeness, nose to nose with the Don's very right hand man. A slight flush fleeted across his face.

"Wh-what? Did I say something stupid?"

"Tch," Raven scoffed, cupping Luke's face in his hands, smoothing aside short hair that was red gold like a flame alive. "Hell no. I just wanted ta let ya know—" That silly grin of his grew wider, "—that I love ya, dearie."

In one fluid motion Raven slid a hand to Luke's neck, pulling him into a kiss. It was small at first, the guildsman pressing their lips together once, twice, three times. Luke was blushing furiously, his hands perched on Raven's shoulders but making no move to stop him. It wasn't until the archer began trailing down the crook of Luke's neck , breathing heavily in the shell of his ear, did he speak.

"N-nobody ever—" his breath hitched as he felt the rough stubble of Raven's face against his own, "told me they—hah—l-loved me …"

Raven paused, flush against Luke whose back was to the headboard, the guildsman resting his chin on the knight's shoulder. He knit his brow, frowning into Luke's neck.

"No one?" Not for his entire life, short as it had been? Luke shook his head, face burned scarlet, heart pounding as he tried to get to used to the sudden sheer closeness. He'd never been this close with anybody, everything he felt was so new. Not that it felt bad—on the contrary—it was just so … different.

"N-never. You're the only one—" He sucked breath between his teeth as Raven's thumb worked its way along his collarbone, dipping below the shirt collar.

Raven knew he was being selfish. For years he'd wanted comfort, anything to help him forget for even a moment what kind of life he lived, and he would take it in Luke's unsuspecting arms. Poor, innocent Luke.

_He's a replica._

Slowly, so achingly slowly Raven worked to undo the dark red uniform of the Royal Guard. Between gentle nips at Luke's throat he growled at the crimson fabric. "R-Raven," Luke stuttered, breathless as his only friend and teacher continued to unbutton the overcoat, getting at the shirt underneath. Broad hands toughened by handling transform bows rubbed, massaged over his torso, stoking the fire even through the cloth. A breathy sigh ruffled Raven's hair.

_You're five times his age._

Yet wasn't it all perfect? Both were outcasts, both were Alexei's pawns to further his own raw ambition, both were lonely-- so incredibly alone--mistrusted, and misunderstood. Nobody else gave a damn for them aside from one another, each to the other. No one else cared about them, so why should they care what others would think? Luke needed Raven, and Raven needed Luke. It was that simple. That was all that mattered.

Undoubtedly Luke never had this kind if intimacy before, and despite it—or because of it, perhaps—he responded to Raven's caresses and kisses with fervor, with the passion of someone who wanted dearly to be loved and never thought he would be. Raven still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that no one, nobody at all, had ever stopped and told Luke they loved him. What kind of life had he been subjected to, driven far beyond what he was capable of, and punished because of it? Deprived of nearly everything a normal child needed to grow, beaten into the princely knight they so wanted him to become. Nothing more than a pawn to be thrown away when the Score came true.

The red overcoat, tailored similar to the Commandant's, hung off one of Luke's shoulders, and with an electrified jolt Raven found himself upset at the thought. While every other brigade captain had his own colors, his own uniform, Luke wore Alexei's colors, and his uniform rendered him only another image of the Commandant, a younger, red-haired one. Gruffly Raven tore off the overcoat, grumbling in a low voice.

"I don't ever wanna see ya wearin' that bastard's uniform ever again," He growled against Luke's throat, the deep vibrations of his voice sending shivers up and down the replica's spine. He moved Luke away from the headboard, pushing the knight down on the mattress, but not ungently. Callous hands ran through the short red hair that paled in fire gold at the lowest strands. "You're not his pawn, you're not a sword he can wear and decorate any way he likes." Raven felt his way along Luke's body, fingers dipping along every crease, splaying over each muscle, stopping just short of the leather belt around the noble's waist.

Those impossibly green eyes stared up at him, wide, glazed over with the haze of pleasure as he breathed heavily, skin burned burgundy. But there was also something else in those verdant pools, something that made Raven stop even as his own desires screamed to continue: fear. Fear of what? Yuri's own words regarding Luke's place in the Score came back, hissing angrily—

"_What about Luke? What does _he _want?"_

"What're you afraid of, Luke?" Raven whispered into the crook of Luke's neck, threading his fingers through the knight's short hair in a gesture meant to comfort. Without a word one of Luke's hands buried itself in Raven's dark hair, insistent fingers tugging at the band that tied it up. Before Raven could have stopped it, his hair, free of its tie, fell about his shoulders. Luke's breath hitched.

"… Schwann." He tried to bolt upright, succeeding only in bumping his head against Raven's chin, and after a quiet "ow" settled back down. A small frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I knew something was up. Alexei didn't want me to learn to fight with anything but a sword and shield, but Captain Schwann … you taught me archery two years ago."

Ah. Inwardly relief flooded through Raven. Luke wasn't afraid of being this close, of the way Raven would run his fingers with a ghostly, then more substantial, touch over his skin. The guildsman nuzzled Luke's neck, earning a surprised chuckle from the younger knight. It was true, he had always thought knights should be versatile, to fight with every and any kind of weapon they could get their hands on. Schwann had been planning eventually to move Luke on from just plain archery to transform archery, a perfect combination of long and short range, but dear Commandant Alexei had seen a stop to that.

"Surprised, dearie?" Raven lay flush atop Luke, enjoying the warmth of another person, something he'd denied himself for an entire decade. Though Captain Schwann liked to make himself scarce and anonymous, Luke had a habit of good observation that proved to be both a blessing and a curse. The replica nodded as Raven relcaimed his hair tie, restoring his former hairstyle in a matter of moments.

"A bit," His voice was hushed as he considered the implications. If Raven was in fact Schwann Oltorain, of the Imperial Knights … His eyes went wide as the other man's words of being the Commandant's pawn came back to him, with so much more meaning than before.

"Luke—" Raven's voice was muffled as Luke pulled him down into a kiss by the lapels of his coat.

"Don't." He breathed, eyes shut. His grip on the violet jacket shook as it tightened, knuckles bleached white. He must be mistaken, that was all. There was no way Raven could have been Alexei's spy among the guilds and by extension everyone he'd been traveling with. It was just impossible. Left and right everything important to Luke had been collapsing in flames all around him; who could possibly blame him for wanting to hang on to the only thing he had left?

Luke had never had an intimate encounter with anyone before, but now he was beginning to understand why people turned to it for comfort. Azkeriuth was gone, and so was Belius, an Entelexeia and guild master at once. He'd rushed to Dahngrest as soon as Flynn had let him escape his own Royal Guard, only to see the Don of the guilds' Union die at the hands of none other than Yuri Lowell. Both his and Estelle's powers could be used to destroy the world, and the right hand man of the one who would see it happen lay pressing him against the mattress.

"Just that you're you, with me now," Luke's lips brushed Raven's own, "that's all that matters. That's all …"

Wordlessly Raven raked his fingers though Luke's hair, a silent apology. The last man Luke had come close to (the first one who admitted to loving him), the last man who would betray him leaned down, gathering him in wide arms. It was easier than he'd initially expected to succumb to sensation.

--

The God-Generals had attacked Myorzo. The sheer impossibility of it still had Yuri reeling, even though there was one key factor to Sync the Tempest's rampage through the Krityan city—a giant bird hovering outside in the skies, well out of the way of the giant translucent Entelexeia that hosted the Kritya homeland. Arietta the Wild could use monsters, that explained it. Though many Krityans didn't fight, some of them that didn't abhor the use of at least bohdi blastia attempted to defend their land and kin with magic artes. But the God-Generals didn't use bohdi blastia. They had no need of them, the Order of Lorelei and the Oracle Knights had harnessed the power of fonons while half the original Empire turned to aer and blastia.

Judith, champion among the Kritya, was keeping Sync busy in the town square, ruins of buildings and blastia bodies reduced to rubble in the hellish skirmish. Repede was helping her as the dog was just as fast as Sync, Karol couldn't engage the God-General directly but supported with his Nice Aid Smash, and Rita of course fired off magical artes like crazy. Yuri would have helped if Judith hadn't shouted at him to go check on Luke; Estelle was gone, absent from her room and no one had seen old man Raven yet this morning.

Checking up on Luke and Raven was easy, as the two roomed together the previous night. Yuri burst through the door urgently, a warning cry upon his lips. He stopped, still as stone, jaw slack at what he saw. In the Krityan canopy bed lay Luke. First off, he was alone, that enough was cause for alarm—Raven had almost been beheaded by a God-General before—but it was the second thing Yuri noticed that was most damning.

Luke was nearly devoid of clothing. Yuri knew as long as he'd traveled with the Royal Guardsman that Luke never, ever slept in the nude or anywhere near it as a measure of respect for whomever shared a room with him. A curosy glance; Luke's pants were still on him. But the rest of his crimson uniform was scattered around the room, some articles on the floor, others tangled in the covers. Luke was awake, sitting upright on the bed. He knew that Yuri was staring around the room, at the undeniable, at him wearing nothing but his pants, but he stared the older man down, unabashed.

Yuri saw the pain in Luke's eyes, his worst fears confirmed. "What. The. Hell." He said in a low voice, anger apparent and rising as he approached Luke, who made no move. A half chortle escaped the dark-haired swordsman, he waved an arm around the room like Luke didn't know what was around him. "What's this, Luke? You know he's a pervert! Why would you—" he paused, concern fleeting across his face. "Did he force you?"

It seemed to take Luke a few moments to process Yuri's question. He shook his head, no. Yuri blinked.

"You … _agreed _to it?!" He knit his brow, lost for words. "Why!" He managed after working a soundless throat. "There are so many things wrong with that I don't know where to begin! I know," Almost against his will, his voice was rising. Almost. "how about that he's five times your real age?! Good God, Luke, what the hell am I gonna do with you? I turn my back for one second—"

"… he loved me." Luke mumbled, and Yuri had to stop and think back to catch it.

"Excuse me?" He spat, brow quirked in question. Verdant eyes locked with granite grey.

"He told me he loved me!" Luke shouted, his voice breaking as his face fell in his hands. Wordlessly Yuri closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, he pulled back a fist, and backhanded Luke with all his strength.

"Look around you! He obviously doesn't, he never did!" Yuri snapped, and he felt no sympathy for Luke when he saw the blood trickling down his chin from the corner of his mouth where the blow had landed. Scoffing, Yuri picked up the red overcoat and flung it at its owner. "Whatever. Not my fault that you let anyone use you any way they like. Get the hell up, the God-Generals are here."

Yuri turned on his heel and left the room, the disgust and disappointment oozing off him in waves. Luke sat where he was, holding his overcoat. Alexei's uniform in miniature, Alexei's colors, Alexei's Royal Guard. Never Luke's. Never. Choking back a sob at everything that had happened, everything Yuri spat at him, Luke began to put his uniform on.

It was easier than he'd initially expected to succumb to numbness.

--

A/N: THERE I DID IT. AND I COULDN'T EVEN WRITE HARDCORE AFTER ALL. YOU'LL NEVER FIND ME IN DAATH MASTER VAN KEEPS ME SAFE. MUWHAHAHAHA.


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